New Arrival
by Macker
Summary: A new arrival in Baldurs Gate receives a less than warm welcome. One shot, Read and review please!


New Arrival

The wind howled. The darkness of the night served as a cloak to hide the form that moved through the nearly deserted streets of the Poor Quarter of Baldurs Gate, the driving rain muffling the sounds of the revelling that overspilled from the part-open doors of one of the areas rowdier taverns. The hooded figure approached the entrance to the tavern, but paused as a pair of burly brawlers tumbled out of the doors as he reached them. The two continued their personal battle for a few more seconds before one of the combatants briefly looked up, with blood running down his face from a gash on his forehead, and caught sight of the silent onlooker.  
"What're you lookin' at?" slurred the angry, somewhat drunk fighter.  
The stranger simply stood in the shadows at the side of the door, his long cloak hiding any detail of his figure or armament, not that the fighter would have taken any notice in his inebriated state. With a snarl, the brawler threw a poorly aimed punch somewhere in the general direction of the shadowy figure. With an almost nonchalent movement, the cloaked man side stepped the blow and knocked the clenched fist of his attacker off course into the unforgiving wall of tavern, with the full weight of the overbalancing and surprised thug behind it. The meaty thud of the man's fist colliding with the stone wall reverberated about the street, a split second before his pained cries furthur shattered the relative quiet of the city at night. The man tumbled to the floor, cradling his fist in his other hand, whilst his slightly less drunk friend squared up to the cloaked man.  
"What did you go 'n do that for?" inquired the second drunk, indignantly. "He never did you any harm. Reckon someone needs to teach you some manners".

The hooded figure made no response. With no further warning, the second man pulled a dagger from his waistband and slowly advanced on his seemingly helpless foe. The cloaked figure still did not move. The now armed drunk, after a moments slightly surprised hesitation, slashed at the left side of the silent man. With almost supernatural speed, the cloaked figure caught the mans hand with the knife in with his right hand, and held it steady with a vice-like grip, no matter how the man struggled. The now frightened man attempted to wrest his hand back from his would-be victim, but to no avail. All of a sudden, the pressure on his wrist disappeared as the silent man let go, and the knife fighter overbalanced backwards, hitting the cobbled street hard. He stared up at the mysterious figure with poorly disguised fear in his eyes. As the hooded man stepped forward towards him, the beaten brawler scrambled to his feet, backing up away from his silent adversary.

The hooded man stopped. The obviously scared thug had seemingly no fight left in him, and was no competition for the cloaked traveller. Therefore the silent man turned and once again attemped to enter the tavern. The dagger flew past his head and struck the stone wall of the tavern, falling to the ground with a sharp clang not far from the first, still whimpering, drunk. The silent man paused to consider the knife on the floor, then slowly stooped to pick it up with a lithe grace that belayed his height, and turned to consider the now visibly sweating thug. His assailant stared at him with eyes wide with a vision of impending doom, and turned with the intention of sprinting off down the street. He hadn't gone three paces before the sound of the dagger whipping through the air filled the quiet street, and the knife thumped into the back of the head of the fleeing fighter...hilt first. The man tilted over, hit the ground with a groan, and was knocked out cold on the cobbles.  
The silent man nodded once to himself in a curt, self satisfied movement, and left the unconscious fighter for the city guards to discover on their next patrol through this quarter. The cloaked figure approached the entrance to the tavern, side stepping the now unconscious first asailant who appeared to have passed out in his own vomit. Opening the glowing door of the tavern, the hooded traveller stepped into a wall of heat, noise, light and the smell of spilt, cheap beer.

The tavern was heaving with the sweating bodies of what seemed like most of the inhabitants of the poor quarter of the city. A long wooden bar was crowded with drinking, rowdy customers, and the handful of bar maids were rushed off their collective feet in trying to keep the beer flowing to the potentially riotous crowd. The cloaked man stopped in the doorway of the public house, momentarily stunned by the incongrous smells and sights of the room. Then, he started to move carefully around the edge of the room, avoiding as many people as possible and keeping his deep hood pulled close to his face. The traveller attracted a number of curious looks with his strange attire, but this was Baldurs Gate after all, and it was often wise not to look too closely at people who wished to remain hidden.  
The man made his way to a recently vacated corner seat and sat back, surveying the room. After a short period of time a beleagured barmaid weaved her way through the crush, her dark hair tied up in a hasty knot, casually knocking aside the advances of several of the more inebriated customers as she went.  
"What can I get you, stranger?", inquired the barmaid. She leant in slightly towards the seated man, trying to catch sight of his face, but the man remained deep in the shadows of the corner.  
"I'll have a beer, please", said the hooded man, in a startlingly musical, lilting voice. The barmaid, in surprise at the unexpectedly courteous request, stared at the man for a few seconds then nodded her head and moved off through the crowd. The man in the corner sat back in continued observation. His attention was caught by a flash of colour at the far end of the room. A blonde haired woman, accompanied by a lone minstrel on a lute, was singing a popular tune. Her attire was that of a travelling musician, bawdy clothing faded with wear and age, but her most startling feature was her eyes, which glittered like emeralds in the pale surroundings of her face. The sound of her voice barely lifted above the crowd, but what could be heard was a sweet backdrop to the throng in the tavern.  
The hooded man's contemplation of the singing girl was broken by the return of the barmaid with a large mug of foaming, slightly warm ale.  
"Thats Eve," supplied the barmaid, noticing the object of the man's attentions after collecting the proffered coins."She sings in here most nights, she very popular with the crowd,".  
The man made no response. With a disgusted shrug of her shoulders, the barmaid moved off.

The man continued to sit in the corner watching the girl for the remainder of that evening, as the scrum of people in the tavern continued to get more and more drunk and rowdy as time passed. Several fights broke out, quelled by a pair of burly bouncers who had taken up positions at the door and the bar. People moved in and out of the pub unnoticed by the silent man, whos beer remained on the table in front of him steadily getting warmer.  
Something caught the attention of the man. A man was seated not far from the perfroming girl, who had continued singing through the passing hours, pausing only for a few sips at a slightly dirty glass of water. He was average build with dark hair and a short black beard, and small darting eyes which watched the girl, but also all of his immediate surroundings. By this point the tavern was starting to empty with various patrons leaving either under their own steam or with the assistance of the pub's bouncers. Two large men, similar in build to the gorilla like minders, entered the tavern and went over to the table where the bearded man was sitting and held a whispered conversation with him, with the man's eyes never leaving the singer.  
The two men abruptly left. A few minutes later, the girl stopped singing. The tavern was mainly empty by now and most oif those remaining weren't capable of getting themselves out anyway. She wandered up to the bar, collected her payment and left the tavern. As she did so the dark haired man also rose and, draining his mug, followed her out the door after a short space of time.

The cloaked man sat perfectly still in his seat for a moment. Then in one fluid motion he left his seat and strode towards the door. The night air outside was cold and crisp, but this didn't bother the hooded man as he stood still outside the tavern and glanced down the street in both directions. The figure of the man could just be seen rounding the corner at the bottom of the street to the right. The man in the cloak set off down the cobbles at an easy, soundless lope, covering the ground rapidly but silently. As he reached the end of the street and rounded the corner, the man slowed down and started to move froward more carefully, sticking to the shadows cast by the brilliant full moon shining over the town. Ahead, the man could be seen following the woman, who turned fractionally, then sped up her walk. The bearded man also sped up, and the three moved through the night like strange imitations of each other. As the woman reached the end of this street, the two gorilla-like men from the tavern moved round the corner and blocked her path.

The woman started as the two large forms appeared in front of her, then moved to go around them. They shifted so they again obstructed her passage. The dark haired man following her caugt up and stopped a few yards back from her, in the middle of the street.  
"Ah, mistress Eve. What a pleasure it is to meet you like this at such a late hour." said the dark haired man, in a smooth oily voice. "I wonder if you wouldn't mind accompanying me back to the house of my master. He has such a desire to meet with you."  
At the mention of the master, the woman visibly paled and started to edge away from the bearded man. One of the thugs moved behind her to grab Eve by the arm, but she twisted away from him and avoided his grasp, kicking him in the shins as she moved. The man paused in his advance, and as Eve turned to run the large arms of the other thug enclosed her and lifted her off the ground.  
"Madam, madam, there is no need for this unpleasantness," implored the oily man as he stepped nearer the trapped woman, a slight smile on his face, "you're coming with us one way or another, so you may as well give in and see what it is my master wishes to say to you."  
The man was now less than a yard away from the woman. Still struggling against the grip of the immovable thug holding her, Eve glared at the dark haired man in front of her, and spat in his face. The serene, smiling face of the man twisted in rage and he struck the woman, a backhanded hit across the cheek of the helpless captive.

Suddenly one of the thugs grunted as his legs collapsed from under him. The bearded man and the second thug turned. In his place, the hooded man stood, balanced and alert.  
"What's this?" said the bearded man, seemingly unconcerned, "An interferer. Stop meddling in my affairs, friend, if you value your life. My master doesn't look kindly on people who disrupt his plans."  
The hooded man stood there silently. The bearded man shrugged, "Persistent pest aren't you. Deal with him,"  
The thug struck Eve on the side of the head and set her roughly down in the doorway of a nearby building. The downed henchman got to his feet unsteadily and stood shoulder to shoulder with the other. The pair advanced upon the still motionless man, drwing large clubs from their waistbands. As they got nearer, one thug swung at the hooded man at head height. The man ducked at the last second and struck out at the man's legs from this low position. The second henchman swung his club in a large overhead arc to come at the silent man from above. The man spun away from the strike, coming to the side of the man and struck him across the back of the head with a single sross chop. The man went down in a heap. The first man was slowly getting back to his feet, and as his head was facing down, the cloaked man struck him on the back of his head with a closed fist. this man also dropped to the floor.

With this fight seemingly over, the hooded man turned... only to have to lean backwards desperately as the bearded man swung at his head with a sword pulled from under his cloak. The man pushed forward, swiping viciously at the frantically dodging cloaked saviour. The silent man rolled backwards out of range, which knocked his hood away from his face. the bearded man stopped in amazement. The man was an elf. His finely carved reatures were covered in a slight sheen of perspiration as the man pushed a few strands of golden hair out of his face. He drew a finely made long sword from under his cloak, and moved towards his bearded assailant. The man hesistated, then swung another strike at the elf, who met his blow coming the other way. With a sharp ping, the elven steel sliced through the mans sword. The bearded man paled in fear, then sprinted off up the street, all thoughts of kidnap gone in his desperation to get away from this eldritch attacker. The elf made to go after the man, but was halted by the stirring of the singer in the doorway. The elf stooped, picked her up as though she weighed nothing, and carried her back up the street.  
The tavern owner was disturbed that night with a sharo knock at the oor. When he opened it, all he found was the stirring Eve, who was left with a vague memory of a beautiful, fey face above her as she drifted in and out of slumber.  
The elf walked up the street, his hood replaced. The shining moonlight lit his way up the cobbles of the abandoned city streets, as the elf walked deeper into the city. His first impressions of his new home were not brilliant, but the sound of Eve singing in the tavern that first night would stay with him, haunting his thoughts as he started to carve out a new life in the busy metropolis that is Baldurs Gate.


End file.
